Fallen
by The Shadowed Gunslinger
Summary: This is a story I worked on Through the cold months this year. It has several Religious aspects, as well as Mythological Backgrounds. Parts of the Story are adapted from personal experiences.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue- The End of the Beginning

Abdiel looked across the body of water stretching before him. Its surface was afire. The scene it created through hot flame, and the stench of the last war humanity would ever know, made the former archangel of God tear and cry pitifully at the waste. The people of the planet had brought upon themselves a destruction never to again be rivaled in all of time. The end was present in front of him. After a moment he began to sob uncontrollably.

He hated his human emotion. Over a thousand lifetimes had led to naught, save teaching him that this world his master had created, was a fruitless project. He had fought endlessly throughout the millennia. He had killed thousands on every battlefront known to humanity: Jungle, Desert, Mountain, River, Earth, Space, Foreign, Domestic, Alien, and Holy. On all of which he had eventually fallen. All the past lives he had led had ended in death. All of them had been painful, proud deaths in wars that he did not fight in to win, but to die.

As he sat and watched the last scraps of humanity fall to their own insidious weaponry, he removed his rifle from his shoulder, his pistol from his holster, and threw them off the steep cliff into the water, suddenly deciding that he would no longer be needing them, this close to the end.

Staring at the countless fallen men laying on the ground around him, the lives he had ended this day, he recalled the lives he had led all in detail. The names by which he had been known, the ranks and titles he had earned: Grunt, Sheik, Archer, Infantry, Carthaginian, Caesar, Knight, Guard, Neanderthal, Chief, General, King, Slave, Infidel, Crusader, Father.

As he recalled these all, he knew that they all were a soldier, save one. He was a soldier. His punishment from the Almighty was to fight endlessly for all of human time, to live the lives of mortals, and die on the field of battle, wherever it lay. He had performed his task. This life was his last, mankind would soon be a memory no one would live to remember. Throughout it all he had rarely lived long enough to earn the name father, even though he had loved all his children.

His crime was the worst of his shame. He was the first to fall at the hands of Lucifer, during his fruitless bid for the throne of heaven. After a thousand years of endless battle, battle fought in the name of god, he was shamed by being pierced by the blade of the desolate one, and punished for asking to be spared when his brethren had not yet had to. In this warrior, god saw the first seed of humanity. The want to live, was in him. He became the first thread of a woven tapestry that became humanity and the earth as we know it.

The soldier sat and pondered these things. He had decided many years ago, that what had occurred to him was not a punishment in itself. He had reaped many of the benefits that a good soldier receives.

Throughout time he had been rich, respected, powerful, famous, infamous, and had bedded the most beautiful women on earth across the expanse of time. He had loved, and been loved. The world ran thick with the children he had created, with and without love. With that thought he realized that many people of the modern age must surely have his blood in their veins. He scoffed at the thought. They were all dead of their own means. They had chosen to destroy themselves, for they had run out of true enemy's decades ago.

Most of all he wondered when the true end would come. When would the warheads streaking across the sky fall and consume him as they had much of the rest of humanity. The sun is long blotted out, from the dying of this Earth, barely visible even as we continue our trek throughout the system.

Just as quickly as he had finished his thought on this subject, a series of bright lights flash across the water, and then all around him, scant miles away. The end of his punishment is near, he knows and he lies back, lighting a cigarette, and crossing his arms behind his head, preparing to suffer death the last time, before he goes where we will go after leaving this world. Unable to determine whether he will go to Heaven or Hell, he simply hope's God is merciful.

As the light gathered around him he gets to his feet, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his boot. Feeling Death's breathing on his neck, Abdiel sees his lives pass before his eyes, just as his mortal form turns to ash and blows away in the wind...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1-Sigmus Paccum Parabellum

Awakening and looking around as well as he could manage, Abel as his mother had christened him, moves from his bed and outside of his hut. Today is the day of harvest, and by this evening, he must present his fairest firstling sheep to God, and seek his respect as commanded. He was still unfamiliar with the name given him by his mother, but bore it for he had no other.

The day passed quickly, and soon Abel and his brother Cain placed themselves on a pinnacle and offered their wares to the Almighty. God looked and was pleased with the offering Abel presented him and gave his respect to him, but Cain was cast aside, and Abel knew something would befall him.

As it comes, Cain happened upon Abel in a field and slew him, with a tool of the field, heavily staining the ground with his blood, and thus the first human war is won, on the edge of a blade. Knowing Abel was dead; God banished Cain, and held Abel's council, as he decided his fate, not allowing his entrance to Elysium. Abel asked god to spare him yet again, for he did not want to die.

It is here when the God of Old Testament, handed his decision To Abel, the model of human emotion, the fallen archangel, the lost protector of the throne of God.

God Spoke and said, "I chose you for a reason."

"Instead of allowing you to cease in your existence, I sent you here to prove yourself worthy of the place I prepared for you."

"Yet again you are slain, for lack of will to live, and ask me to spare you with your final breath."

"Your humility is noted, and your cowardice will be sung from the mouths of hell for eternity."

"Your service will not go unrewarded. I will keep you from hell's inferno."

"It is my decision that from this point until the end of Humanity, You will fight to preserve your life."

"This is your punishment, for failing me a second time."

"A soldier you will be for all of human existence."

"I will bestow upon you a new name."

After a moment God grasped the wings on the fallen angel's back, and tore them free of him, and before casting him to earth for the following Millennia Said,

"Henceforth you will be known as Abdiel-the servant of God."

Before descending into the darkness, Abdiel remembered a passage from early in his life. Sigmus Paccum Parabellum. If you desire peace, prepare for war.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2-A Ruing of Deaths

Today was as good a day to die as any, Abdiel thought to himself, tightening the cinches on his mount's saddle, and raising himself to sit upright on the horse's back, accepted his sword and shield. He rode toward the front line of the twenty thousand man strong army that he would be joining into battle before this day was over.

He looked to his left and his eyes fell on his wife for the last time felt a pang of regret. Today may be the last time they ever saw each other. It should matter to him naught. He had been married near one hundred times throughout the course of history. It was part of his nature. They would feel the pleasure he gave them. The status they usually received would set them up for the rest of their lives. His death would bring them property and wealth from his estates, and they would have children, and in general probably remarry.

This was different. It was true that he loved them each in their own way. All of them were beautiful. All of them loved. All of them were Loyal. But she was heavenly, as her name implied. He had married her but three quarters of a year ago, on the road, and had loved her from the moment he first saw her. Her name was Asphodel. Her name suited her well. She was indeed the Immortal Flower of Elysium that her name implied. He had loved many women over the course of his morbid existence, but never truly hated his inevitable fate until now. She was different. She was something that he couldn't explain, try as he might. He wanted to live. Yet again he desired to survive the heat of battle for selfish reasons. He could not help it. God had made him Human.

He loved her more than all the others combined, she was _the_ _one_. Finally his punishment sank deeper than it ever had into his consciousness. This was his burden. He pulled his mount in next to her, and leaning forward, grasping her waist with his arm, and drew her onto the saddle, and into his lap. He wasted no time whatsoever, in gathering her in a furious kiss, her returning it with all the passion she had shown him in the short time they had been together. She was with child, had been from their first joining, he knew this somehow when they had conceived it, but was unable to truthfully explain how. They both had known.

He suddenly became serious as he looked into her eyes and placing his hand one more time on the swell of her belly, where his most beloved child lay below her heart, he kissed her and lowered her to the ground. She knew that today could be the last time, but he left her with the hope that he may return, and with a single last look of longing brought his horse along side the column of marching men, of which many would never return to this place again. Including Him, if his instincts were correct, and they usually were.

He moved alongside them, a vision of power in war. His sword was sharp enough to remove the hair from his face this morning when he awoke. His shield is polished to a high gloss with the oils his beloved wife rubbed into its surface the night before. His armor, had carried him through many battles this lifetime, and his warhorse had been raised from colt hood, to obey his every request in the heat of battle.

Moving to the front of the column, he reined in his mount next to the king and his lieutenants, he had been chosen to attend the parley the evening before by his superiors. He now sat atop his mount riding to the center of the field where very soon the ground would be muddy with the dirt, dust, and blood. It would soon become a stinking quagmire where many men would lay and draw their last breaths.

The approaching army surely had a name, but it hardly mattered, he'd stop giving a damn about who he was killing centuries ago, it didn't matter all together, eventually one of them would have enough luck, strength, skill, or speed to deal a fatal blow, and over again he would start. They had hardly reached the middle of the field when a single white arrow soared from deep within the army and sank into the ground about thirty paces from were they had stopped their mounts.

Abdiel dismounted and walked over to the arrow, plucked it from its resting place in the ground and held it over his head at arms length, signaling the opposing sentries that the parley had begun. In accordance with War Law tradition no violence would occur, until the arrow was broken in two, signaling the end of the parley, and the beginning of the battle.

They waited several minutes, and after a short time, the army parted into two columns, allowing whatever nameless king this happened to be, to pass into the field and rein in five paces away, and waits for them to speak. After a few moments the opposing king rang his voice out over the open field.

"Why do you bring your army onto _my_ lands?" He asked

Angered at the small time king's disrespect for failing to introduce himself, Abdiel's king motioned for him to speak on his behalf, a great honor not many ever enjoyed. Abdiel composed himself, and began to speak.

"My king has expressed great interest in _your_ kingdom."

"He has offered you peace and wealth in exchange for _your_ additions to _his_ court and a generalcy in _his_ grandest of armies, but you have declined these, and it has brought the crimson tide of war to _your_ very gates."

"My king has _graciously _offered you _one_ more opportunity to accept his offer."

"If you have refused this a second time, then _your lands _will become _His lands…._and all of you will die."

The enemy leader began to squirm in the saddle in his fury, at Abdiel's threat. With a grin Abdiel could not help but add. . .

"And think of all the pretty colors our banners will add to the totems of _your_ land, after we have killed all of _your_ army."

"Quite a breath taking sight it will present, especially mixed with _your_ blood on the ground."

Abdiel's king grinned as well at his bold jest, and made a mental note to drink a toast to his courage that night at the feast, after the battle had been won. With much more anger in his voice than he intended to have shown his enemies, the enemy king began to shout,

"I will drive you from these lands this day!"

"Prepare yourselves to die!"

With yet another signal from his king, Abdiel spoke,

"Today is a good day to die, you stupid fool".

Abdiel tightened his grip around the white arrow in grasp, breaking it in two, and threw it to the ground where the opposing kings mount stood, adding coolly, and "I will search for you in the field."

Moving back to his mount, Abdiel climbed in to the saddle, turned his mount around towards the lines, and digging his heels into the horse, began tearing towards the army he would, without a doubt, lead to victory today, or die trying. A few minutes later his king rode forward, and motioning towards him, made him aware of his respect by giving him command of the army's first infantry, which he would lead at the beginning of the battle in one hour.

Smiling at his honor, Abdiel snapped a quick salute by pounding his right arm against his chest and holding it there for a moment. The king answered it, and Abdiel again kicked his mount into a hard forward gallop, towards his new command.

Upon reaching his men he informed them of the king's decision, and with a loud shout, brought to attention his new command of five thousand men, and ordered them to march fifty paces ahead of the rest of the army, and re-muster into scores of rows ten paces apart, so as to inspect them more easily.

After a few moments he decided that this particular group of men, would suit him well. It comprised mainly of infantry, but had a one thousand man compliment of trained archers. Many of them were already christened in the heat of battle, but some he knew were green, he instantly order several of them to the back of the lines, as he did the same to many of the much older men that stood before him, knowing they would stand less than a good chance of survival if left in the forward lines.

Seeing this action instantly changed his soldier's demeanor, many of them sending looks of pride in their new leader's direction, for his compassion. Sensing the change, Abdiel saluted his men, and they saluted in return, yelling and whooping their battle cries, before Abdiel raised his hand for quiet, and the lines of men before him fell silent so he could speak. He inhaled deeply, drew his sword and held it in the air, as he began to rally his men.

"In a short time," he yelled in a powerful, resounding voice he never knew he had. "We will cross this field into to glory."

"Many of you will not return to this place, of that I want you all to know I am Proud, but sorry." He paused to gather his thoughts, and after a moment he sighed and continued.

"I will lead you this day as well as I am capable, and if you trust in me, I will do all I can to make sure each and every one of you returns to your lovers, wives, and children."

Waiting a moment yet again, he knew he was promising a great deal to his men, but he also knew his own death could happen today. It was then he decided that if he was going to die he would protect as many as possible, even giving his own life in the inevitable processes of this war.

"I know that this is a great promise to make to five thousand men, but if you rally to me I will do my best to keep all of you on the track to victory, keep to my sides, and together we will destroy this enemy. . ." Raising his voice to a roar, Abdiel could feel his army preparing them selves.

Sword pounded against shield, feet stomped the ground, growls and shouts sounded throughout the field. He knew that they would never ask him to keep his promise; they would die proudly for him. He continued to speak in a roar that could not be equaled by any man or beast.

"Raise your weapons, salute yourselves, and salute your enemy, for today, mothers will weep, wives and children will cry, and men will die, for what we do this enemy, color the land they covet red with their blood, show no mercy, KILL THEM ALL! . . . THIS IS WHAT I ASK OF YOU! . . . DO THIS FOR YOUR KING, FOR YOUR LAND, FOR YOUR BROTHERS IN ARMS, FOR ME!"

The men standing in front of him had changed since he first arrived. They erupted in roars and yells, which shook the ground. The meek, nervous looks in their eyes was gone, and what stood before him was one of the most powerful, bloodthirsty, and determined armies, he had ever had the pleasure of being a part of, in his centuries among mortal man.

Hearing a distant horn blast, Abdiel gathered his men into fifty lines each one hundred men wide, and began marching them forward at a ground eating pace. Upon reaching the center of the field, the Opposing army dispatched their entire four thousand man force forward, all of them knowing that they would not leave this place alive.

The battle began only moments later, when without warning the opposing army, broke ranks into a full run, closing the space between them more rapidly than an experienced leader would, and Abdiel knew that this was a badly portrayed effort to instill fear, before the battle truly began. Wasting no time Abdiel shouted a command and a volley of one thousand arrows sang out from the back of his ranks, closely followed by two more of the same. He watched with great satisfaction, as nearly a fourth of the army running towards him fell to the ground, either dead or dying.

With another command Abdiel's army flew forward, quickly, but without breaking ranks, and soon clashed in a myriad of clanging metal, shouting fury, and screams of agony. Suddenly feeling useless, Abdiel charged his mount deep into the fray, intent on keeping his promise to the opposing king, and soon found him cowering amongst his own archers, but unable to command them effectively.

As his men broke through the lines, a series of things flashed though Abdiel's mind, the first being that if the battle continued in this manner, Abdiel would be with his wife and headed home in a few hours time.

The second was what had startled him so much, he had yet to kill a single soul in this battle and recalling this, he drew his sword and began slaying men at an inhuman rate learned only by waging centuries of war.

The third and final that he realized was once he had down enough archers, and made his way with a number of his men toward the leaders ranks, that the enemy king had effectively retreated and now ran full tilt, across the open field behind his army to the safety of his lieutenants ranks.

Chuckling to himself, Abdiel took a bow and single arrow off the body of a downed archer, and drawing a line to the target, aimed it high and fired an arrow into the sky towards the cowardly king. A few moments later, Abdiel watched the arrow fall from the sky and sink deep into the skull of the king, sending his now lifeless form reeling into the ground, dead.

Upon witnessing this the lieutenants, who just hours before had lusted for battle, fired another familiar white arrow, and seeing this sign, the enemy army broke ranks yet again, only this time in retreat.

Abdiel waited to celebrate his victory, and regrouped his men as quickly as possible, and soon had them storming after the ranks of fleeing infantry and lieutenants, towards the walled city beyond the hills. Moving his archers in position he ordered them to send several volleys of arrows in their direction. To his satisfaction several hundred of the remaining men fell before making their escape into the city gates.

Not prepared for a siege, Abdiel dispatched a rider to bring forward more archers, ballistae, and battering rams to destroy the gates, on the final push into the city. After a quarter of an hour he heard the sounds of marching and wheels creaking as the reinforcements arrived. He ordered them all into position, and soon the shouts of men readying machines, the pulling and cranking of ropes and pulleys, and before long, the sounds of splintering wood, as they mashed the gates down, to reach the people cowering on the other side.

Bare minutes passed as the gates and wall around them fell, opening the city to the inevitable takeover that had been foretold, but dismissed in stupidity. Men stormed the city burning and pillaging all that lay in their path on the way to the palace of the fallen leader, and soon Abdiel joined them.

He reined in his mount and jumped from the saddle, immediately heading toward the palace, through the long foyer, and to the throne at the end of a long room. Accompanied by about fifty men, he confronted the cowering king's son and soon found himself allowing yet another useless parley, as the prince stalled for time.

The prince requested a day's leave to prepare for his new liege's arrival. Abdiel allowed it placed a guard with in the palace, and removed himself to report and return to camp. He soon relayed the necessary information to his superior, and mounted and returned to camp, to his wife.

He knew something was amiss at the tent he shared with his bride the moment he rode into to camp; he broke into a thundering gallop, and leaped from his horse before it even stopped upon reaching his dwelling. He entered quickly and the hustle and bustle of the many camp women soon was apparent to him as his wife lay on the bed of linens they usually shared, nude, drenched in sweat. His wife was in labor. Soon his child would be born.

Rushing to her side, he grasped her hand, but found several women bearing down on him, attempting to force him to leave, but with a single glare from his ice blue eyes, they backed away, and continued their ministrations in preparing to bring his child into the world. Asphodel was smiling sweetly, and began to whisper in his ear.

"It's time my dear, your son is fighting to join you here"

Not knowing what to do and suddenly feeling afraid for the first time in centuries, grasped her hand and said soothing words to her, fearing that he could lose them both. She tried to speak again and he placed his finger over her lips, and told her to conserve her strength.

At that moment a horn sounded. The coward prince had broken the parley, and was rushing the camp. Gathering himself to his full height, he bent and kissed his wife, and before leaving the tent to return to the battle field said. . .

"I will try to join you soon." After another a few steps, and looking back one more time, he continued. . .

"Make sure my son is raised strong and well, if I should not return to you my love, he will need to avenge his father's death."

"If I do not return, instruct him to kill the enemy prince and the rest of his family, and do it slowly, I will make my strength his with my final breath."

"Give him my name, and when he is of age give him to the king . . . Our son will far surpass us all. I love you my sweet Asphodel, never forget it."

With that Abdiel strode from the tent, and mounting his warhorse, rode to destroy the enemy that broke the laws of war, and took from him the pleasure of seeing his son born. Drawing his sword, Abdiel went on a killing frenzy, as he nearly beheaded every enemy he came to, tearing across the open field to find and end the opposing prince's short reign.

He never stopped, even as he felt arrows tearing at the layers of leather armor on his legs and arms, each near miss barely allowing Abdiel time to recoil, before the next glanced off the flesh and leather covering his body.

In what seemed like no time at all Abdiel rode up to the palace, and dismounted. He collected a shield and several spears from a fallen soldier, and stormed into the throne room at a full sprint. He found the prince fighting sword in hand, against several of his best men and was ten paces away, when a small company of the prince's men arrived at the door to the throne room.

He reeled around, grasped a spear in his hand, sent it soaring, and downed two men at once when they filed into the room to protect their cowardly leader. He loosed two more spears, each finding its mark, and drawing his sword, quickly dispatched the remaining two, and then turned to face the prince.

He was met with a look of fear that quickly turned to anger, in the visage of the young prince. The prince rushed him, hoping to catch him off-guard. Batting the prince's sword out of the way, he leaped as if he were trying to jump over the prince's shoulder, but before landing at the prince's side sank his blade point-first deep into the neck of the prince, pushing it completely through, and out the other side.

The prince's body went limp the moment the sword hit its mark, and collapsed to the polished marble floor. Placing his foot on the prince's head for leverage, Abdiel drew his sword from the dead leader's body. He grasped a handful of the dead prince's robes, and wiped the blood from the bronze blade. It was at that moment, everything seemed to go most wrong.

Hearing footsteps, Abdiel turned, and was met by at least three arrows slamming into the front of his body. He reeled and fell. Breaking the shafts from the arrows, Abdiel stood, and threw his sword end over end killing the first archer, and raising his shield, charged the two remaining archers, as well as he could manage.

The tip of several arrows, punched through the shield, as he reached the archers. Rolling toward the first fallen archer, he recovered his weapon. He heard the other two draw their swords, and he quickly deported them both, rushing to his mount, to seek attention for his wounds.

He stripped off his armor on the slow ride to camp, not needing to rush, now that the battle was drawing to a definite end. Night was falling, and much time had passed since the fighting had begun that day. Abdiel was soaked from the chest to his heels with the blood from his wounds, and was becoming weaker by the heart beat, as the blood flowed a deep crimson, pulsing and gushing as his heart struggled to keep what was left, moving through his body.

After what felt like hours, he arrived at his tent, more fell that jumped from his mount, and moved inside. His wife had apparently fainted, with the effort of childbirth, and moving to her side, grasped her hand for what he knew would be the last time. She awoke, and looking at his condition knew they had little time together, spoke.

"He will arrive soon, they have said."

"I love you my husband."

"Have you killed your enemy?"

Taking as deep a breath as he is capable, Abdiel speaks in a barely audible voice.

"Yes, our son may live a life of peace, until he chooses otherwise."

Taking another breath he strains to speak again, and leaves nothing unsaid.

"I have killed those that, by dawn, will have succeeded in robbing you of a husband, and our child of a father."

A tear tracks down her cheek as a contraction begins, and a woman rushes over to deliver her dying husbands child. Tightening their grips, Abdiel slumps down onto the floor of the tent, and relaxes for the end to come, he mutters something, but no one hears.

As his son draws his first breath and announces his arrival with a shrill cry, Abdiel hears and draws his last breath, and dies with his wife's name still on his lips. . . . . . . . "Asphodel. . ."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3-The Stuff that Dreams are made of

_Screaming, only screaming. Where is she? Abdiel rushed through the camp, the enemies pouring out of nowhere. There was killing. So much killing, he couldn't stand it anymore. All he wants is his wife back, his sweet Asphodel, in his arms. He slices, and stabs, and murders, and chokes, and kills all who pass near him on his pursuit. _

_Why was he fighting? Where is she? He couldn't believe all of The Blood. There was So much blood. Everything is red. Men, women, and children lay about, arms missing; intestines stringing the ground, heads open to the elements. Where is she? Who was he killing? He couldn't tell anymore. The faces blend together. Not men. Not women. Not children. They were all just androgynous figures without faces, or features. Where is she?_

_It felt like years had passed, since the battle had started. Why was he fighting? He had a goal. He had to find her. Where is she? A century has passed. She should be here by now. She must be in His tent. She is in his tent. That's where he last saw her. They could have gotten her already. No. She's strong. She would fight. She would die to keep from them. She would die to return to me. I love her. Where is she?_

_There's the tent, I'm almost there. It's surrounded. She must be inside, why else would there be so many men their, if she wasn't. He kills. Even he had never seen So much death. She is here. I can feel her. She is alive, I hear her voice. I will kill them all for approaching even this close to my beloved. _

_Another century passes. They are all finally dead. No more come. All of them lay before me. They are all me. She comes out of the tent. She see's me, but she does not see me. She hates me. She see's who I am this life. She only sees this body. It's different every time. It's always a new physical form, the same soul. She hates me. _

_The men laying dead, all look like the me that she knew, that image, that body that she loved and loved her. She hates me. This is not the one she knew. To her I am a murderer. I took what she wanted most in my pursuit of her. She hates me. What I am, not who I am. It's the same either way. She hates me. She hates me. She hates me. My sweet loving asphodel, the one I love hates me. Dear god please forgive me, I cannot stand it any longer._

_She raises a dagger high above her head and yet again her belly is swollen with my son. She hates me. She drives the dagger into the place where my son waits to be brought to the world, robbing me of him. She hates me. The blood pours out of her like a black river. She purges herself of the child we created out of love, out of hatred for the man, that loves, truly loves her. She hates me. She begins to laugh, knowing that the childish sobs escaping me are because of her. She loves to hate me. _

_I cannot bear to live any longer. I raise my weapon over my head and force it deep into my chest, straight down through my heart, and lay down, letting the sobs escape me. She walks over to me, her body still spewing the ugly black liquid where, my son had rested peacefully for so long. She smiles a smile of contempt, and satisfaction. I die knowing she wanted me dead. It was the last thing I ever gave her. It was what she wanted, and I could not deny her. She does not love me anymore. . ._

Abdiel awoke, and found his pallet drenched in sweat, urine, and the smell of spent seed and body odor ran rampant through the tent. He stood, and pushed away the whores that kept him company these days. They weren't ugly, but they didn't appeal to him as another woman once had. He hadn't been married in centuries. Whores kept his bed for the time being.

Ever since Asphodel, no woman had kept his bed warm more than a few times. Every woman was different. Always new. None of could ever be what he yearned for. He was never satisfied. He was never happy. There were Thousands of them. Not one even close to what he had shared with his beloved. He had long since resigned himself, to never having that again.

He was bitter. His bitterness had begotten his ruthlessness. His ruthlessness, had earned him power, and riches. His riches and power had given him respect. He liked respect. He liked whores. He would only _love _Asphodel. That was all he could do to sleep through the night, and not feel guilty for the women and war, that kept him company.

He thought of the dream. It was always the same, for nearly four hundred years, every night. The dream was always the same. He awoke scared, covered in sweat. He often pissed the bed. Good enough for it mattered not to him, and no one else dared speak of his incontinence. He had nearly killed a lieutenant for hinting at it, and that lieutenant had found himself leading the first charge that day and dying an agonizing death.

He had yet to decipher the dreams meaning. In all the time he spent thinking of it, it never once occurred to him that his beloved could actually hate him, but he didn't understand why he had this dream.

This war was different than some of the others. According to King Priam, the Achaeans, including Agamemnon, had a mighty army, and there was more than a good chance that Troy would fall. Little did they know that Abdiel had fought the mighty Trojans on three other occasions? Even in this war. It had been raging for nearly twenty years now. Many had died. He had died the second day, enveloped in a firestorm of thrown spears. Only that time he had been fighting in Agamemnon's army. He had been a mighty myrmidon, had followed the Great Achilles into battle.

Now almost nineteen years of age he had proven himself in battle the year before, as a member of Hector's army and had gained a measure of status. Priam in his gratitude had offered him something he did not desire in the least. A wife.

Though a great honor for the king to choose a wife from his court, his own family, he knew there was only one woman whom Priam could offer. His daughter, Cassandra. Abdiel had never seen her. Nor had any other whom was not a member of Priam's house. He had her well hidden, for good reasons. She was his prize daughter. Should anything happen to Hector or Paris, his only sons, he that married Cassandra, would gain the throne, and produce a legitimate heir, of the royal blood line.

He hated the idea of marrying again. He thought it a great betrayal to his beloved. Today was the day. An emissary had reported to him late last night, and told him to appear for the king in his best finery, for he was to be married. It would mean great disgrace to King Priam's House, if he refused, and death if he did not report on the king's command. At least, He thought, I can keep my mistresses, after she is with child.

He rose, bathed, and called his squire to bring his freshly washed finery. He chose a tunic of sorts, of bright purple. He also chose a gold belt, from which he hung his sword. Not the ceremonial longer blade, but his actual weapon that he carried into battle. Its silver handle glinted in the sun, when he stepped outside, and dipped his hands into the oil of freesia and jasmine, being held out by his squire, and ran his hands through his neck length hair, combing it effectively with his fingers.

His squire fetched his mount, and climbing woefully into the saddle, he rode toward King Priam's palace, to become married. Arriving in a few short minutes, the celebration had begun without him it seemed. Priam glided through the crowd and grasped his hand, and after a hearty welcome, embraced Abdiel for several moments. Moving hand in hand through the crowd, Priam introduced Abdiel to the prominent court members, and after a barrage of names, and faces, Priam led Abdiel into an anteroom, and told him to wait.

Abdiel walked over to a table and poured himself a much too large, helping of wine, and sat down on a long couch, covered in soft muslin. Feeling warmth at his back he reached over and found himself groping the figure of a young woman. Standing quickly, dropping the wine to the floor, and offering excuse, Abdiel quickly found his voice, and breath caught in his throat, as the figure of his beloved Asphodel rose from the couch. She quickly stood, and after a looking over of Abdiel's form and body, settled her gaze on his eyes and introduced herself as Cassandra, daughter of Priam, Princess of Troy, and his wife to be.

After a few moments, Abdiel wiped his now damp palms on his tunic, like an anxious adolescent, and extended it to greet her. She moved forward and grasped his hand and pulled him over to sit next to her on the couch. She settled his hand in her lap and held it tight and began to speak.

"I know you don't want to marry me, but I will do all my duties, and be a good wife for you."

"I know my father chose you, so you must be a good man."

"I will only ask that you give me time to learn what pleases you, and after that, if I am not good enough you may return to whatever or whomever you choose."

Hearing this total submission, from this woman who could very well have been, a relative of his beloved broke his heart. For the first time in since losing his life, and at that time, his true love, he cried. He cried as nearly four centuries, of war, pain, heartache and strife, suddenly caught up with him. She gathered him against her breast, and cuddled him close, not understanding where the tears came from, only knowing that whatever hurt him was truly painful, and in a way that she may never understand.

As Abdiel wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her close, Cassandra felt her heart fall away, and held him closer as she began to cry herself. She felt for him something she didn't understand. She'd never expected to love this man, only to respect him, and take what she could from their union. She had never for a moment figured that she would actually want this man to love her, and in exchange love him in return.

As quickly as it had begun it was over. Abdiel rose and took her by the hand, and was completely changed from the man that he was when he had entered the room. He put his arm around her waist, and pulled her into the front of his body and held her close as if they had already been married for years. To Abdiel it had been that way, and to him it felt as if he had been unfaithful. The fact that he had tried to substitute whores and loose women for his wife, was now sickening to him.

He had rationalized it for so long, but now that he was looking into the eyes of a woman that he could not help but love, he thanked the almighty and remembered that someday he would be parted once again from this woman. He hated it but knew it to be more than possible. It was inevitable. He had but a few years to make up for what he had done, and to show this woman, though she was not whom he had loved, that she might as well be. For the first time, he did not have a substitute for his sweet Asphodel; he had an equal of her, which he could love with the passion he needed to feel. And he would. He knew he would.

He captured her mouth in a hungry kiss, feasting on her mouth as if he hadn't eaten in centuries, truth be told he had not. It was a fiery kiss, which ignited their loins equally. He had regained something that he though he had lost forever. She had found something never again to be rivaled for the rest of her life. They had fallen in love in only the few short moments they had been together, her out of hope, him out of longing.

The moment they broke the kiss a table boy walked into the room the call them to the ceremony. Abdiel took her right hand in his, and placed his left at the small of her back, as they moved to the altar, in front of the throne of Priam. The Ceremony went quickly, neither of them really paying attention to what was being said. They simply complied with what they were being told to do, their eyes never leaving the other for a moment.

At the end of the ceremony their wrists were bound to together to signify the end of the ceremony, and the beginning of their union, and at this the crowd that had gathered burst into cheers and applause, and parted in the middle to allow them to pass to Priam's family table, and once they had been ushered to their seats and wine was poured, the feast began in earnest.

It was all a blur as food moved in front of them. They shared a platter large enough for them both, as was custom to be done at banquets and feasts. For them both the food turn to ash in their mouths, and the wine to vinegar in the glass, for all the attention they paid the meal led to naught but anticipation for what lay ahead of them in the evening. Soon enough the sun fell below the horizon, and after a series of good wishes, and a few lewd jokes from Hector and Paris to their sister, the hall emptied and only Priam and his wife Hecuba, remained in the hall with the newlyweds.

Priam waited a moment and then, moving over to sit next to his new son-in-law, spoke.

"I am pleased that you two have found love between you, I can tell this, for it happened to me as well as it happened to you on the day of my union."

"It is easily understood from your behavior throughout the binding and reception that I chose most wisely in matching you both together."

After a moment he gestured to his wife, whom though quiet was bursting to speak. She began to smile with warmth and happiness, as she began to talk in a soft voice that only a mother could own. . .

"I am overwhelmed this day. I was blessed by the heavens to have five sons and two daughters."

"Now I have another strong son, and a daughter who loves him as I love my husband, and as just as he loves me."

"All of them are older than you both. I can no longer teach them anything of value, but now that you are bound, I can have many more grandchildren to love, and be loved by."

"Priam and I have decided to award you a suite in the palace. Here, just as my children were born and raised, so will yours, if you wish it."

After a moment Priam began to speak again, this time the pride in his voice, could not be hidden. . .

"As my son-in-law you will also receive a gift of sorts from me as well. I have instructed your brother in law, Hector, the leader of my armies, to afford you a command in the army. This will keep you safe, so that for a time you may be happy, and explore your love with my daughter.

"Give me a grandchild. Give my daughter your children, and honor Troy as is has honored you today."

"What say you to this?"

After a moment of deep thought, Abdiel whispered something to his newly begotten wife, and she began to speak in his stead.

"He says he cannot speak for his gratitude, to you."

"He accepts, on the condition that should he die in battle, you will ensure the safety of our children with the lives of as many a man as it takes to ensure their safety."

"Be it one, a thousand, or every citizen of Troy."

"He asks this out of love for me, for he could not stand the thought of me losing both him, and the child of love he will give me to love in his stead, should he die."

"Also he asks you to bar the tradition and permit his son to carry his name, for he is sure to die, as he has dreamed it many times and it may befall soon."

Priam thought for a moment, and then after looking at his wife, whom had begun to tear, at the show of affection, from her daughters husband, and then nodded, for as the Lady of the house by tradition it was her right to name any child born within it's walls. Priam composed himself, and drawing a small knife from his belt, drew it across the palm of his hand, and offered the knife to Abdiel to do the same. Then he spoke.

"I and my wife agree to these terms, this pact of blood will ensure, that it will be so. You shall be your son's namesake. I will protect your child with my own life if necessary, and sacrifice all of the Trojans, for the love of your child."

At this Priam extended his hand palm forward and fingers extended, offering the blood pact, and Abdiel too did the same. They laced their fingers together, and as their blood dripped from their hands, and pooled on the table, their wives looked on in awe at the bond that had been made. Releasing his grip and rising from the table, Abdiel looked to his wife. Cassandra expressed her desire to retire for the evening with but a look. Abdiel agreed that surrender would be welcome, and nodded, for the night before had been long for him, as well as the day, and led by Hecuba, they were shown to their chambers where all of Abdiel's belongings had already had been placed.

It was at that moment that Abdiel knew why Priam was such a good king to his people. He had known Abdiel was going to accept his offer, and that the marriage would be good, and full of love.

After yet another round of congratulations, and a final good night, Abdiel and his bride where finally left alone. For a few moments Abdiel thought for sure that today was only a dream, But as he drew his new wife, the only woman he had truly loved since the death of his beloved, into his arms and gathered her in a furious kiss, he knew that in the end, the nightmare that had plagued him night after night for so long could finally be gone from him.

As he pulled her towards the bed, and began to remove his clothes, she did the same, and for a moment he was ashamed again, knowing he had fallen in love again, even more so for a woman whom could be the twin, of the woman he had loved those years ago. She moved over to him, and put her arms around him, knowing what to expect from the marriage bed, but not knowing the animal she had awakened, in laying her hands on this man she knew nothing about, yet felt like she knew forever.

He ran his hands the length of the sides of her torso, and down to cup her hips in his hands. They fit perfectly, he noticed, as he continued to inspect, what he had now realized was the best gift anyone had ever given him, though in truth he did not look upon her as a gift, more as a miracle, given to him by mistake. He kissed her yet again as he slowly maneuvered her towards the bed.

As he lifted her up in his arms, picking her up as if she were a child, cradling her against his body, he moved her to the bed of linens, and silk, and laid her down. After a shy smile from her, and a sad, but sincere smile from him, Abdiel gathered her into him, and began to make love to his wife. He knew what dreams were made of now, but he didn't intend to sleep any time soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4-Is all fair in Love and War?

He kissed the length of her body, planting his lips gently all over the surface of her body, purposefully avoiding all the most pleasurable parts. As he moved over each breast, he took each nipple in his mouth, and played it with his tongue. As moved over her navel, he darted his tongue inside, and as he reached the thatch of dark curls, located at the vee of her thighs, he could not help himself, and dipped his tongue into the top of her feminine slit, and brushed the sensitive bud, that hid from him.

Abdiel wasted no time after that, when she thrust her hips toward him, and he pushed his tongue deep into her moist core. He leaned back against the wall at the head of the bed, and sat up, so that, when he bent his knees she could lean against him when she became tired, and she would, he would make her so. He picked her up and held her body over his swelled cock, before capturing her in a ferocious kiss, and impaling her with his inches of velvet covered steel.

Cassandra shuddered and cried out, her barrier broken. He looked into her eyes, and she leaned against him, unsure of what had truly happened. He whispered in her ear, and said soothing things to her as he lifted and pulled her down on his length. As he had expected, she had never been exerted, and her virginity made it a simple matter to force her body to betray her as he fed a hunger older than that of her entire family ancestry. They soon busted and climaxed out of control, as a stream of his seed, and her blood, ran down his shaft and onto the soft sheets.

He cradled her against him, and she was not crying, but she seemed different as her breathing settled to an even, slow rhythm. She clutched at him and would not allow him to move, though he did not intend to, he still protested, and looked into her eyes as a smile slowly crossed her face. He knew she wanted more, but she needed rest, and he needed to think. He knew a hungry fire was urgent in her that had not existed before, he would fuel it, and it would burn them up. As he thought this, it occurred to him, that he still had a duty to fulfill.

Much to her protest he lifted her off his length, and moved to the washbasin located by the window, a group of people were outside in the courtyard about a stones throw below the terrace at his window. He found a soft cloth and wetting it, moved over to the bed, pushed her legs apart, and cleaned her completely, with soft tender strokes, and gathered a salve from his belongings, to rub over her womanhood, to soothe the damage he had done in their lustful encounter.

Abdiel lifted her still nude body, and carried her over to a couch, where he laid her down and instructed her to wait. He then strode over to the bed, and began to remove the bed cover on which they had made love. He held it in his hands, and after a short inspection and nod, walked to the terrace overlooking the courtyard, grabbing two small knives from his possessions on the way. He had known what the people were gathering in the court over when he had looked before. Draping the sheet over the terrace banister, he stabbed the knives through the sheet, and into the wooden handrail. The bloody sheet would be displayed for one week, letting every man and woman of Troy know that he had lain with his wife, and taken her virginity. This display would lie to rest any doubts that a child produced from their unions this night would not be legitimate, and as thus would be heir to the throne.

Abdiel strode back into the room and grasped his wife's hand and took her back to the bed. He placed a new bedcover, and laid her on top of it, before gathering her against him, and trying to sleep. After a few minutes, Cassandra began to speak to him, and Abdiel knew that she would want to know everything and that out of love he would tell her.

She began by asking the most obvious question, which he knew would not do anything to set her mind at ease.

"Do you love me?"

Abdiel thought for a moment, and decided that he would be totally honest. After a moment he spoke, and hoped she would not be offended.

"Yes and no. I think I can love who you are, but right now I think I'm more in love with the idea of you. You remind me very much of someone I loved."

"I loved her more than anything."

Cassandra waited a moment before speaking, and finally gave yet another question, instead of commenting on the answer he gave.

"Could you love me the way you loved her, or would that be asking too much?"

At this point, Abdiel realized how much this woman, and Asphodel was alike. Maybe he had actually found the second in a million. Perhaps he had actual found her again across the expanses of time, and fate had brought them together. Knowing this answer would lead to more questions, Abdiel, prepared for either the worst, or best of this woman. Then making sure he said what he felt right began o speak again.

"That wouldn't be asking too much. You are my wife. I'll give you all you ask of me."

Cassandra began to speak again, but he held up his hand, knowing what she was about to ask. She may not believe his answer, but it was truth. Abdiel sighed, and after settling Cassandra down again when she tried to speak said,

"I may already love you more. Truthfully I do not believe that something such as love can be measured and compared."

"It's as if I found her again, after years of searching and waiting. I have always loved her, but know you are here, and it's as if she was never gone from me."

"I love you more than her, but I think it's only because I was alone in that regard for so long. Does that make sense to you?"

She waited a few moments and then asked the question that he knew was coming,

"Have we met before?"

Abdiel thought very carefully, knowing the answer to this question. He knew this was her. She was the same, only different. It was so hard to explain, so in the end he decided to lead her to question all of his pasts, which, in the end, would lead her to her own conclusions. He gave her a simple answer that she did not expect to hear, and leveling his gaze, and setting on her the thousand pace stare, that so many warrior possessed, said only,

"Yes, we were married once before, about four hundred years ago."

Cassandra gasped, and clasped her hand over her mouth, and after the initial shock, said something that Abdiel had never expected to hear,

"I know."

It was Abdiel's turn to be shocked, and after a moment of quick recovery, became almost frantic,

"What the fuck do you mean you know? It's utterly impossible unless you are over four hundred years old, and then I'll kill you for leaving me to be without you after all this time!"

Gathering her thoughts, Cassandra began to tell him of the dreams she had been having for as long as she could remember. She also had dreams about distant battles, of men being killed, and she described, always feeling inconsolable and distraught the morning after the dreams. Before she realized it she was telling Abdiel, in detail, about every death he had incurred, since that night in the tent when his son was born, and he had died.

After this, Abdiel told her of the lives he had lived. He told her of all the wars he had fought, men that he had killed, women he had loved and loved him, and the dream that he had been having ever since that night in the tent. She Listened and never stopped looking at him.

Somewhere along the way, all questions of love vanished, and they knew that they never wanted to be apart again. They gathered together and made love for the rest of the night.

In between encounters, they made plans, and sometime during the night their firstborn, or even second born as one may be privileged to put it, was conceived of pure love. It would be a boy. They knew this simply because; Abdiel had never born a female child in nearly fifteen thousand years. They talked of their coming child, and how they would not waste a single moment, given the time that had been wasted since they had last met.

Abdiel had decided early that this Cassandra was in fact a rebirth of the woman that he had loved. Maybe the master was playing tricks on him. Perhaps it was a reward for being a good killer, in the years since they had been parted. Either way, he and she were both glad, and if Priam was right, he would be safe in his command and never have to fight again. He could live a long life. They could only hope as they clutched other in the throes of passion once more.

As the ashy gloom of the early morning, was penetrated by the rays of sunlight coming over the Aegean, they climaxed together once more, and fell into a deep sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5-The Son becomes the Father, The Father becomes the Son.

The years passed with and without incident. Troy fell in good time, and Abdiel was one of the very few that managed to escape, family and fortune in tow. Abdiel's son was born just prior to the destruction of the city; nine months to the day, from the night Abdiel and Cassandra had been married.

Now thirty four years old, Abdiel's physical body had matured completely, and his son's had begun to take form, in the image of his father. It answered a question, which Abdiel had been asking himself for a number of centuries now. For so long he had not known how he had continued returning to this world, now he did.

However, now the question was whether or not if he died he would possess the body of his son, or his son's son. It did not matter. He now understood why he had so often changed forms in the past, and why he had changed after Asphodel, and after so many others. His son had died without children. He had not had children in those past lives.

On the brink of this new knowledge it occurred to him, that the master had thought of everything to prevent Abdiel's ability to control his own fate, and in essence control time itself, at least in the long term. Once, several millennia ago, the desolate one were still tending the throne with the almighty. He had said, without so much cringe, let alone a fear, that contradicting the First of Firsts, would lead to the end of all that is. God could not be wrong, for if he was, all that he created would cease. When he made his failed attempt at the throne, he wasn't trying to assume control as many would have you think. He was trying to prove that he could. Hence his punishment. Lucifer had nearly killed a divine warrior, something that had never been done. This would have proven the almighty wrong, and thus been "The Great Undoing" as Lucifer had called.

Abdiel now knew these things to be the closest to the truth he could ever come to terms with, without the input of the First.

Now that he was aware of the circumstances of his exile, he now knew that his time, though he had survived the war he had thought for sure would lead to yet another end, would lead later to another "redo" of the circumstances. He knew that he was on the verge of subverting god's punishment.

He now spent his days with his wife, son, and endless ponderings of what exactly his life would bring him, and his family. In the mornings he ate his meal, and spent time with his wife and at lunch, ate with his son, and spent time with him. At the evening meal, he sat with them both, and they laughed, and cajoled each other as families do. Shortly following the meal, while it was still light out, Abdiel would go out on the shore of the outlook of the Aegean, where he would think until just before the moon was high in the sky. He then would return home, make love to his wife every night, and go to sleep holding her.

They had discovered just after their son had been born that they would not be able to have more children, though they could not understand why. They were both healthy, and he had had children before. They had hence decided that it was not their faults, but they were still grieved at the loss of what would never be. They still made love, and he always put his seed in her, but it led to naught. It had been almost sixteen years since the fall of Troy, and no child but the one had yet been born.

They had also gone into hiding, their fortunes large enough to sustain them for far longer than either of them had hoped to live. Now living in latter Sparta, near the Aegean shores, they lived a comfortable, but tense life, lest they be discovered as the last surviving members of the Trojan royal family, and be executed. Aeneas had moved the rest of the Trojans to the shores of Italia, where they had met with some brothers Romulus and Remus. There they had built a city, and where warring on what to name it, such impudence made Abdiel laugh out loud, and look at his son and smile, knowing if he could help it, a life of war would never happen for him.

At that moment, the sounds of marching soldiers stilled Abdiel's musings. He ran to the door, and looking out saw his worse fears come to life. A group of Spartans, marching in phalanx formation had surrounded the only exit to the house. He ran to his son, gathered him in his arms, and told Cassandra to go into the back room.

He gathered his sword and shield and prepared for the onslaught that would surely take him away from his beloved wife and son. Ten men rushed the house, and Abdiel killed the closest ones first, forcing them to bottleneck at the front door, and one by one they poured into the house, dying at his feet. Soon the arrows started, and a bow that he kept by the door, was grabbed as he moved into the doorway, and arrows began sticking in his shield one by one, until he had enough to use.

Moving to the center of the room he hung his shield on his back, and began using it as a quiver, drawing the arrows out of the layers of hide, covered in bronze. A window to his left was forced open just as he sent an arrow sailing out the door, striking a Spartan grunt under the chin, drawing the veil of death over his eyes. He sent yet another arrow through the now open shutter, and stuck another Spartan through the eye, killing him instantly. He moved to the door of the back room and stood just inside, so that he could defend his family at all cost.

Firing arrows in quick succession he soon depleted his makeshift quiver, and tossed the now useless shield in the face of a coming Spartan, knocking him to the ground. Grabbing up the spears of the fallen Spartans, Abdiel was again less than human, killing at a rate the gods themselves could not equal, even with great effort. One after another Spartan after Spartan fell at the hands of God's chosen one, each being deported one by one, to hell.

Soon Abdiel's bloodlust became frantic, and he became yet again, the ruthless warrior of lost love, his wife and son hid in fear, not only from the endless Spartan onslaught, but from Abdiel's tireless slaughter. He had killed so many, that the floor of their large home now lay invisible to them, for the bodies lay piled a 2 cubits and a half deep, and the metallic stench of blood filled their senses, so they needed to vomit.

Abdiel sensed their distress through the heat of battle, and turned to face them. He looked into their eyes one last time, before a spear pierced his heart from behind and thrust out through his chest. As he fell to his knees, he whispered something, and a mist flowed out of his mouth and into the mouth of his son across the room. A clap of thunder sounded, and a streak of lighting tore through the ceiling, hitting the young son of Abdiel, now seventeen, and throwing him hard against the far wall of the room. The same happened to the namesake of the boy, and after what seemed like hours, they collapsed onto the floor. The father was dead, the son was alive. The father became the son. The son became the father. Abdiel knew at this moment, he was himself and his son. They were one. They were a legion unto themselves. Many lives. Many bodies. The same person, the same soul, they were stronger, faster, smarter, and angrier. As a matter of fact they were fucking angry as hell.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6-For We Are Many (Life Begins Anew)

Grasping the spear from his fallen father's chest, his own by comparison, the now newly reborn, and infuriated Abdiel, begins the centuries old dance of war, in the eye's of his mother and lover. As far as he can tell she is unaware that her husband and son now inhabit the same body. As do the bound souls of over a thousand lifetimes of living, each moving with the others to a new vessel, a younger body, a body of their bloodline, race, creed, or otherwise.

The youthful body he now possessed contained the training, skills, strength, and knowledge of every lifetime he had lived. Flexing the muscles in his arms, they had instantly transformed from the loosely muscled form of an unhardened teen to the battle hardened and tested form of a grown adult. He felt stronger, faster, and powerful. Somewhere deep within him a beast was yearning to escape. He wanted to let it loose.

Tightening his grip on the spear, a Spartan grunt came to the door, unsure of the lightning and thunder sounding in the room. Pointing his spear at the Spartan, he imagined the beast escaping his body, and attacking the Spartan. At that exact moment a bolt of crimson light stabbed through the Spartan, burning a hole through the armor and flesh. He could see the room behind the Spartan through the hole the bolt had made. With nothing more than a surprised look, the soldier fell to the ground, dead.

In that moment he knew that his power was divine. The almighty had given him a gift. With it he could change the outcome of his destiny. It was a plan he did not understand, but then again he was not intended to understand. He held the spear over his head, and in another flash of light, the spear in his hand transmuted into a sword of incredible workmanship. The blade is long and shines with a light that emanates from deep within the metal, that was unlike he had ever seen. This was not a blade of bronze or iron. Despite its size it weighed nearly nothing.

He held it out in front of his body, and as he concentrated, the blade erupted into a white hot flame, that wavered and steeped as if it was blowing in the wind, though there was none. As he concentrated harder he was bathed in a light brighter than that even of the sun, and soon found he had regained something he thought never again to possess since struck by Lucifer, and cast down by God himself.

He flexed the wings on his back wide and hard, their blue-black color barely lighter than the color of his eyes, as they turned all black beneath the lids, and he shuddered as he regained a power that he had not known since before the time of man. He was now clothed from head to toe in armor only the Maker himself could forge from the fires that kept hell itself blazing, to punish the desolate one for his sins. Its alloy shone light from deep within itself, gold in color, and with the flaming sword, that Gabriel had carried himself when he dispatched Sodom and Gomorrah; he had become yet again the mighty seraph that he had been created as so many millennia ago.

Knowing through divine providence, what he was being asked to do, he gathered Cassandra to him and with a single flourish of his thirty cubit wingspan, was soaring high above the house he had lived his life in, on the shores of the Aegean. He held his sword at arms length over his head and with a series of slashes through the air brought sure destruction, to all who had the misfortune of being below.

It started out as no more than a slight rumble, but after a few moments, the entire area was engulfed in a sphere of white hot light. It ended as soon as it had began, and now where once had stood a house, stables, trees, and nearly a hundred Spartan soldiers, was only a crater. A perfectly carved half sphere, which had burned away all existence of what, had once been a family home, and now all that remained was a charred pit five hundred cubits deep, and twice the depth in length across.

Lowering to the ground, and planting them securely, he placed the blade in its scabbard, and the armor fell from his body to the dirt, turning to dust in only moments, and blowing away as the wind picked up. The feathers of his mighty wings deteriorated just as quickly, blowing away as if attached to nothing, as if they were leaves stirred away by the wind. Now standing before, his mother, wife, and lover, mortal again, Abdiel felt confused.

He did not know how to feel about this woman. She had born the body, he now inhabited. He had loved her with his body, and still felt the need to do so. Yet at the same time, she was his mother, and his only true love. He was conflicted in a way that he had never been before. He did not know how to voice this concern before, she gathered her self up quickly and ran pell mell and dove from the cliff on the overlook of the Aegean where their home had resided. As quickly as she fell, and struck the rocks on the bottom, something she had hoped and he had not expected happened.

The sky suddenly opened and a spear of lightning just like the first cut through the air over the cliff where Abdiel looked on, and struck Cassandra's limp form floating in the water below. Her body rose from the water as if lifted by a hand, still being infused with the divine bolt, it curling around her body, lifting her and setting her down on the cliff at Abdiel's feet. He kneeled down to see her body change before his eyes. Her years turned back until she appeared to him even younger than she had been when they first met, but only by a few years. She was perhaps seventeen years of age in body. She was as beautiful as she had always been.

As she began to come awake, she looked into his eyes, and began to speak slowly as if recalling something she had been taught to repeat.

"He said that you have proven yourself. He said that, if you choose, you may return to Him."

"But you must go now or remain here as you are in form, and power doing my will for the remainder of the time you were meant to be here."

"If you choose to stay, we will both remain young and fit. You will mature and eventually peak, but age no more than that, and I will do the same."

"You may retain your power, but only use it to prevent evil in its various forms."

"The most important part of this revised punishment will be the hardest to bear. You will be able to have children, but they will remain mortal, and die as all men and women do."

"This decision will also result in your children never having Children of their own."

"Choose."

He had to decide was course to take. He had been a servant on this hell-hole for over fifty millennia. He had lived, loved, and died on this place. This little pet project, created to amuse something or someone that just happened to exist beyond existence. He had a chance to escape. He could leave this place behind, probably forever. Not just for a long time by human standards, but truly for all of eternity. Then he looked down at the woman he loved more than the God that made him. This was the woman that the almighty himself had crafted in his wisdom to make his punished, tortured existence tolerable. This woman made him want to blaspheme, and forget the Almighty, but he could not, for the First of Firsts had given them each other and that was due payment that in his heart Abdiel knew he could never afford. He had a choice to make and he had to make it now.

"What is the right choice; if I cannot have her there I will stay here."

"Will it always be this way?"

"Will I suffer your insidious wrath in the future, or am I free of you until bound otherwise by my duty?"

As he spoke aloud, confronting the sky itself, it grew dark, and he knew the answers to all the questions he could ask. The master made it all known to him, in his own way. It was time to choose, but he wasn't sure what to decide. He could go back to paradise, live for eternity problem free. He could stay here and fight. He could stay here and love this woman, have hundreds of children, and risk never going to paradise again. He looked down at her face once more. She was smiling a lazy smile, looking as if she was falling asleep in his arms, and he could not imagine a life without her.

Taking a moment to think, Abdiel knew what he would decide. He was, after all, human. He looked up and after one more strike of lightning, the skies cleared and Abdiel helped his beautiful Cassandra to her feet. They had the opportunity to start over again, but how they would go about this feat was a mystery in itself. They were young, aged nearly the same in years, but not in experience. This was her third life, and the hopefully the last of Abdiel's.

For now he would be happy, but he knew this good thing that had happened, would not last as long as they wanted it too. In the end, he would suffer for this choice, but it mattered not, in the end, for he would take what he had just been given, and run as far as he could, for as long as he could. They would begin anew yet again, and for a time it could be perfect.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7-Like Oleanders

The time passed more quickly than ever. In a few short years Abdiel's and Cassandra's Physical forms matured, and they found that at this peak, and being unable to die, they possessed great stamina, speed, and strength. Though Cassandra was capable of these she apparently did not choose to wield them when Abdiel was called to battle, for she remained home, uselessly worrisome, for her husband was doing a greater forms biddings, and could not die.

Time passed and every year they had a child. After a time, every year a child left home. Boys and girls. Men and Women. Grown and young. They adored their lives, and were always surrounded by the patter of children's feet, the laughter in the mornings. Abdiel made them toys, little lions and bears, carved of wood. Cassandra made them clothes and dolls of straw and cloth. Abdiel Taught the boys sword play, and how to defend and kill. Cassandra taught the harp, singing, and sewing to the girls. For many years they lived in complete peace.

Once every few years, Abdiel would disappear for a few weeks and return tired besides his obvious immortality. Cassandra knew why because she often found dark feathers in his pack bags, and he retained scars, which appeared long healed, but had not been there when he had left. It was an odd occurrence, if anything was, for an immortal man to scar as if he was living a mortal's existence.

He engaged in few of the wars, which occurred during these peaceful times,(despite the peace at home, war went on all around) unless mandated by his master, and usually it was a divine intervention for the causes of good. Generally he would farm, raise cattle, and when times got a little hard, fight in a war to capture spoils to replenish their treasury. Otherwise he stayed with his family. He found that the longer he stayed away from battle he grew antsy, so every few decades, after a while away from battle, he would engage, and afterwards return home, his bloodlust satisfied, eager to be with his family again.

For the most part they knew that eventually, this ideal existence would end, but not knowing when gave it oleander like qualities. It was beautiful, peaceful, but had the poisonous possibilities that all good things have. Knowing it could end any day now, gave it a stigma, that made it a life of fear for the lovers.


End file.
